


in a broken memory

by just_one_iota



Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: (one second discussion of miscarriage), Angst, Family Fluff, Fluff, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-12
Updated: 2020-07-12
Packaged: 2021-03-05 05:33:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,142
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25219339
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/just_one_iota/pseuds/just_one_iota
Summary: In which Maglor is dramatic, Celebrian has a surprise, and grief never quite leaves the soul.
Relationships: Celebrían/Elrond Peredhel, Elrond Peredhel & Maglor | Makalaurë
Comments: 5
Kudos: 73





	in a broken memory

The force of the sensation nearly knocked him over.

Maglor had been simply weeding Elrond's herb garden and singing the flowers to bloom, content in the warm sunlight and blessed peace. (He'd thought he'd never have peace again.)

Then, through the fibre fine thread that connected him to Elrond, he felt a wave of anguish that stole his breath and turned his legs to water.

It was gone in an instant, Elrond shutting the bond off almost as soon as his distress appeared. But Maglor had dropped his trowel and the feverfew flower he had been planting. He didn't even think. The fear overcame him.

He was sprinting towards the kitchen entrance as fast as the wind, but the meandering route to the upstairs rooms would take too long. He remembered, now, that Elrond was with Celebrian and his fear redoubled. She was two and a half months pregnant- if something had happened to the baby…

It had been a long, long time since Maglor had seen a miscarriage. It almost never happened to elves, except in times of war.

But Elrond was no ordinary elf, and his offspring would not be either.

No, taking the kitchen route and wasting precious seconds would not do.

Maglor looked around wildly, saw the piping on a striped column, and leapt. His fingertips scraped on the rough stone where the vertical lines jutted out, but he clung on determinedly. The rest of his hands were protected by the gloves he wore at every moment of his life, even in his sleep.

He skinned his way up the column, using the strength of his legs and a determined grip. Then the pillar ended and Maglor swung his hand up to the balcony it supported, grabbing the edge and pulling himself over. The top half of his body was on the floor. He dragged himself forward until he could get his legs under him.

This was Erestor's room and he would be sternly unimpressed, but Maglor could deal with that later. He broke the balcony door lock from outside and rushed in, barging into to the corridor and sprinting to Celebrian's day room.

The door was open, and the first thing he saw was a familiar couple entwined on the couch. Elrond was bent over to hide his face against her shoulder. In turn, Celebrian’s arms wrapped around him tight. He couldn’t see any more through the silver waterfall of her hair.

Maglor barely had time to notice this before something in the corner of his eye registered. He whirled around to see Galadriel sitting heavily on a chair in the corner. And Galadriel, his staunch, proud cousin-

She was crying.

He'd never seen her like this before, beautiful composed Galadriel, undone and raw. He was not sure he'd _ever_ seen Galadriel cry before. Then her eyes fixed on him.

"You bastard," she snapped at Maglor in Sindarin, and he blinked in surprise.

Though their relationship was still strained, Maglor and Galadriel had made a considerable effort to be civil for their children. He wasn't sure what he'd done to change that.

"This is your fault,” she told him with tears still streaming down her face. “I don't know how, but's it's your fault."

What? "What happened," he croaked. "The baby, did the baby-"

"Maglor," Celebrian's voice broke in. He whipped around to see her. Her face too was wet with tears, but to his considerable surprise she was... smiling? "Come here."

Utterly confused, Maglor dutifully came to stand in front of her with dread growing deeper in his stomach. She tangled their hands together and brought them to where her belly was just beginning to swell.

He wasn’t sure what to do, so Maglor did what he usually did when his hand was on her stomach. He let his mind go and searched.

Every time, he was swept away by the indescribable wonder of feeling the little spark growing in her stomach. It had grown brighter over the last weeks but was still barely there, the miniscule bud of a fea. With reverence he reached out for that tiny beloved flicker.

Then he felt the other one.

Maglor fell to his knees. He found himself crumpled in front of Celebrian, staring in awe as his mind tried to process the blind-siding development. Two. There were two babies. They should have expected it, of course they should have; twins ran in families.

A wave of tangled intense emotions rose in his throat, but nothing came out of his mouth. Celebrian's eyes were wide with joy. Her face shone like the sun, her whole body alight. She was beautiful.

Maglor looked up and to her right.

Elrond had disentangled himself from her shoulder, but his body was still curled in on itself. His dark hair was tangled around him. His skin was a blotchy, messy wreck as he gazed at his wife's belly. But what struck Maglor was the look on his face; somewhere between unimaginable joy and a terrible sorrow..

Oh.

It kicked Maglor in the chest.

Strange, how grief could remain one of many well-known background melodies, a known constant, for so many years; and then suddenly reach up and break you like the very first time. He suddenly couldn't breathe for the aching.

Somehow he saw Elros dancing. It filled his chest and clogged his lungs, where sorrow choked him. Inside him was a swell of delirious hope and an unconditional love for those who were not yet to be. He wanted, badly, to lay on the ground and weep until all his tears ran out.

The pain had never gone away. He had not thought it would. Maglor looked at Elrond’s face, and saw it echoed there. He reached up to take his foster son's hand.

Elrond entwined their fingers together with the familiarity born of long ages. His eyes were sorrowful but clear. He leant across to kiss his wife's cheek reverentially.

"I love you," he said. "We're going to have the most beautiful children in all the world."

She let go of Maglor's hand (he kept it on her) and touched her husband's face. "Of course we are. They're yours."

"Ours," Elrond whispered, and then he reached out to touch her belly too. Immeasurable wonder flooded his face, even as the grief remained. "Twins, Celebrian, we're having _twins_."

Galadriel gave a hiccupping laugh behind Maglor. "Our grandchildren."

Ah. Yes. Speaking of grandparents, he should probably get out of here before the other soon-to-be grandfather showed up.

But just a moment. A moment, to feel the sparks of life coming to bloom under burnt and blood-stained fingers. A gentle hand stroked his hair. Maglor leaned into it, as he had always leaned into love. He hid his face.

(And if he wept, at least he could claim that they were tears of joy.)

**Author's Note:**

> Come check me out at https://the-quiet-fire-of-defiance-is-me.tumblr.com/ . I'm always happy to talk :)


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